


Dancing Queens

by Iceaxx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ballet, Dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 15:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10665822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceaxx/pseuds/Iceaxx
Summary: Stiles is a well respected (at least he would like to think so), balett dancer.But he doesn't do paired dancing.....What will he do when he finds out his partner doesn't want to dance with him either?Will he leave it be and take the win?





	Dancing Queens

Stiles is practically foaming at the mouth. _'Who the hell does his manager think he is?'_ , signing  
Stiles up for this ridiculous competition. Stiles doesn't work with other dancers, and there’s a  
very good reason why. And his manager is very well aware of the nutcracker incident of 2005.  
  
  
His mother had been the one to insist that Stiles broadened his horizon when he was a child, and had  
signed him up for ballet lessons at the tender age of 5. Much to his father's chagrin. Yet despite  
his father's worries about his son being bullied for his hobbies, Stiles took to ballet like a fish  
to water. And before his mother passed away only a month before his 9th birthday, she had had the  
pleasure of watching him win recital after recital. Always with a proud beaming smile on her face,  
no matter how tired and worn down her eyes revealed her to be.  
  
But anyways, the point being that after a very unfortunate incident at a glamorous Christmas show in  
2005\. Involving a plastic reindeer, a big bowl of blueberry punch, and a failed penché, that Stiles  
will swear till his dying day was not his fault, Stiles Stilinski does not do partnered dances.  
And now, here he is standing outside some abandoned warehouse that has the aesthetics of being able  
to give him tetanus from just looking at it. He groans and looks down at his GPS again. The  
coordinates are correct, but no well respected person could be living in this dump.  
  
  
Well at least if it turns out this guy is some serial killer, and Stiles ends up chopped into little  
pieces and served with a nice Chianti and some fava beans (What? Stiles never denied having a spark  
of over-dramatic), he will take comfort that his dad will make his manager pay in painful and  
inventive ways.  
He makes his way inside and starts on the stairs, that there is plenty of he might add. Oh well, his  
ass could use some extra toning after being tricked into eating his own weight in meatloaf, mashed  
potatoes and gravy last night by a certain Ms. McCall. She always did have a way of making Stiles  
overeat when he made his way back home to Beacon Hills on college breaks.  
  
Stiles takes the last flight 2 steps at a time, and finds himself outside a huge sliding door, the  
only hint that someone might actually be living here is a small metal sign next to the door, the  
letters looking like someone roughly scraped them in with a carving knife. _‘That looks super_  
_reassuring, not at all what one might imagine the garden variety serial killer would prefer’_ he  
thinks and for a second contemplates turning back and going home. ‘D. Hale’ the sign reads, and  
Stiles takes a deep breath, lifting his hand and knocks firmly. The faster he can get this thing  
over, the faster he can get back to trying to find loopholes to get his manager fired for making  
Stiles do this at all. The man is really taking too many liberties with Stiles’ generosities  
anyways.  
  
He has knocked 4 times and is just about to give up and go back down again as the hinges on the huge  
door squeak and it opens partially, revealing what Stiles can only describe as a hulking mountain  
man. His hair is messy and he has a huge untamed beard. And suddenly Stiles feels like he is in some  
modern version of the Beauty and the Beast. The man clears his throat, obviously having been trying  
to talk to Stiles, while he was off in his own little world.  
  
“oh! Crap… Sorry”  Stiles flails ungraciously. Something he still doesn't understand the logic  
of, because as soon as he is in ballet mode, nothing can knock him over, except you know, inflatable  
reindeers, but that is besides the point. He thrusts his hand out towards the man.  
  
“Stiles” he introduces himself. The man looks up into Stiles face and _‘wow, what color are those eyes even?’_  
Stiles wonders.  
  
“What do you want? Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested” The man practically barks, as his eyes  
rake up and down Stiles frame.  
Stiles is used to those looks by now. He used to hide himself under layers and layers of clothes.  
But as his talents blossomed, so did his confidence, and he knew the his lithe waist, long limbs and  
muscled forearms make many people, both straight or gay do a double take.  
  
“Your mouth might be saying the words, but your eyes doesnt seem to have gotten the message, also  
I feel I should be insulted by the insinuation you are making” Stiles smirks as the man's head  
snaps up from where his eyes had been focused on Stiles hands, a soft red color tinting the back of  
his neck, not covered by his beard. After a second his eyebrows furrow and his lips set in a thin tight line.  
  
“Who are you and what do you want?” His tone even more feral than before, obviously trying to  
mask his embarrassment from being caught staring at Stiles hands. Stiles decides to give the guy a  
break rather than embarrass or taunt him further, so he takes a step closer to the door, and giving  
a soft smile.  
  
“Like I stated before, I'm Stiles.” The man's left eyebrow quirks, like it’s  
asking _‘what the hell kinda name is Stiles?’_ but he doesn't say anything, so Stiles continues.  
  
“I’m here because of my manager, whom I’ve heard is in cahoots with your uncle; really creepy  
guy I might add. I met him once at this hospital staff ball. Not that I work at the hospital. I  
mean, look at me…” Stiles gestures down himself before going off on another tangent  
  
“... I might be like super awesome when I get into the zone, with some music, but god knows no one should  
ever let me take care of their medical emergencies. They’d probably leave worse of than when they  
came. I mean maybe as a clown at the children's-ward, but that’s about the extent of how I’d be  
helpfull at a Hospital. Once, I even tipped over a vending-machine trying to get the reeses it stole  
from me.” He gives a soft throaty laugh, catching his breath before continuing,  
“But yeah, I was there with one of the nurses. She’s been like a second mum ever since I was a kid.” Stiles  
features go soft and happy thinking about Melissa, and doesn’t even notice that he’s stopped  
talking and is standing awkwardly around smiling until mountain man _‘Oh shuddup brain, I’ll call_  
_him whatever I want until he introduces himself’_ starts talking.  
  
“So as much I have enjoyed wasting my time listening to you ramble on about basically nothing, how  
about you save us both the pain of me throwing you down the stairs, and just tell me what the hell  
you are doing here?” Mountain man’s tone is softer, but his furrowed eyebrows are about as judgy  
as they are going to get without literally flying off his face.  
  
“Like I was trying to get to. My manager, and your creepy uncle have signed us up for the pair  
dancing at the Dance for A Cure fundraiser.”  
Stiles has barely gotten the words out, before Mountain man’s face scrunches up in an odd way, and  
he retreats back across the doorframe. Stiles opens his mouth to ask if he had said something wrong  
when Mountain Man looks him in the eyes, anger clearly visible in his features and he all but snarls at Stiles.  
“GET THE FUCK OUT! AND IF YOU EVER COME BACK, I WILL THROW YOU DOWN THE STAIRS HEAD FIRST!”  
before slamming the door closed, leaving a bewildered Stiles with his heart in his throat, wondering  
what the hell just happened.  
  
  
  
It feels like hours, but in reality it can’t have been more than a minute, before Stiles manages  
to pick his jaw off the floor and close his mouth from the shock of what had just taken place. It  
should say more about Stiles’ self-preservation that he isn’t already halfway down the block by  
now, but this really isn’t the first time he’s been threatened with severe bodily harm, and it  
by far won’t be the last. So he slowly makes his way down the stairs, still seemingly a little in  
shock, but more than that, he feels curious as to what had flipped the switch so fast for the  
mysterious D. Hale aka Mountain Man. He knows he should be thrilled at this outcome, because god  
knows Stiles had no intention of dancing with a partner anytime in this lifetime, _‘ok maybe he_  
_would let his future wife or husband convince him to dance with them at their wedding, but that’s_  
_besides the point’_ Stiles reasons with his brain as he continues his descent.  
And by the time Stiles reaches his Jeep, he has a plan. He is going to figure out this D.Hale.  
No matter what or how long it takes. He will get to the bottom of this mystery.  
  


-

  
  
And Mountain Man D. Hale; the Mystery, is the exact reason that finds Stiles at Beacon Hill’s most  
popular mom and pop coffee shop at 6am the next morning when they open their doors. Stiles smiles  
politely to the barista that unlocks the door for him, and makes his way to the counter. **‘Once In**  
**A Blue Noon’** has been Stiles’ favorite coffee shop ever since he was a kid and his mother would  
take him here for their rich glazed cinnamon buns after ballet class. It was their thing and after  
his mother passed, Stiles kept coming every week, just to honor and remember her.  
  
“Good morning Stiles, what brings you in this morning? I wasn’t expecting you until Sunday.” a  
soft voice greets, and soon is followed by the view of a head thick with white curls and a round  
wrinkled and smiling face.  
  
“I know Joanne, I just have a special mission, and I am in need of some sweet sweet bribery in the  
form of your miraculous buns and pastries” Stiles beams at her.  
  
  
Joanne chuckles and shakes her head. She had been friends with Stiles mother Claudia, and has had  
the pleasure of watching the awkward coltish boy grow into the fine man standing before her today.  
  
“And whom are we trying to bribe today then? Did you break the McCall’s mailbox again? Or maybe  
liberate some more furry friends from the college laboratory?” She asks, a cheeky smile playing on  
her lips.  
  
Through the years of knowing Stiles Stilinski, Joanne had first-hand heard all about his outrageous  
adventures.  
Like the time he had filled all the courthouse sprinkler-nozzles with rainbow colored ink packs and  
the entire courthouse lawn had looked like an ad for a LGBT magazine for a week. Or the time he decorated  
the Sheriff's cruiser with superglue and an ocean of glitter, earning himself his first night in jail at the age of 7.  
It had all been in good fun though, because Joanne remembers that when she had asked him how it  
felt doing hard time, he had her lean in and then he whispered in her ear that all of the deputies had  
brought him doughnuts and pizza, and even turned the TV so he could watch cartoons, but not to tell his mum or dad about it.  
  
Stiles’ scoffing brings Joanne back to the present.  
  
“No, nothing like that. There is however a mystery I need to figure out.” He says.  
  
“ A mystery man to be more precise.” he corrects himself as he starts pointing at the pastries and buns  
through the showcase, watching Joanne grab a box and starting to fill it.  
  
“So do you want to date this mystery man?” Joanne teases as she throws an extra cinnamon bun into  
the box, free of charge.  
  
“Oh god no, nothing like that..” Stiles flails quickly, before regaining control of his limbs. He might be all grown up now,  
but he is still like bambi on the ice most of the time.  
  
“Alan… You know, my manager.” Stiles frowns at the name.  
  
“... He signed me up to the Dance For A Cure fundraiser. Which in itself is great. You know me. I’m all about the  
fundraising. More than happy to do it. But you see, the problem is, he signed me up with a partner.  
Apparently as some collaboration with Peter Hale, you know the investor from the hospital?...  And you know me Joanne…  
Everyone knows this about me… I don’t dance with a partner.. Not after…”  
  
“The great Nutcracker episode, yes I know sweetie.” Joanne finishes for him, and gives him a sympathetic pat  
on the cheek as she places the box of pastries in front of him.   
  
“Yeah so they’ve signed me up with this D. Hale, who is apparently Peter’s nephew or something, and last night  
I went over there to introduce myself, and you know. Excuse myself from the competition or something.  
But as soon as I told him why I was there, he closed the door in my face and threatened to throw me down the stairs  
should I ever set foot at his place again” Stiles explains, arms flailing as he gestures his outrage.  
  
“So now, that you have a legitimate reason to not dance with a partner, and just let this all go. Which is what you  
wanted in the first place I might add. You are going to bring the man pastries, and what? Hope he will spill all his  
secrets to you?” Joanne levels Stiles with a soft glare, and  
he feels his cheeks heating up.  
  
“Well when you put it that way... “ Stiles scuffs his feet against the counter, looking down bashfully as the box of  
pastries is pushed into his hands.  
  
“You be nice to Derek. He’s had a tough life Stiles. But I know if anyone can bring him out of his shell, it would be you.”  
Joannes murmurs as Stiles looks up at her puzzled, but reaching for his wallet.  
  
“It’s on the house dear. Now go before I change my mind”. Stiles grabs the box, nodding as he turns around heading  
for the door.  
  
“Thank you” he yells behind him as slips out into the morning rush, leaving Joanne as he found her,  
with a chuckle on her lips and a warm feeling of hope in her heart.  
  
Stiles rushes across the street to where he has parked his Jeep, placing the box of goodies in the  
passenger seat. _‘Derek…. What is your story Derek Hale’_ he asks himself as he puts the car in  
gear and takes off towards downtown. 


End file.
